


sensitive

by demjinyves



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, POV First Person, Resentment, Tickling, because fuck y/n, kinda shitty because I wrote this 3 years ago, ruining the flow, vague plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demjinyves/pseuds/demjinyves
Summary: "You're  my favorite, you know that?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [requested by tumblr anon: something with Mark involving a tickle fight]

“You’re my favorite,” he murmured, grinning lazily. “You know that?” 

Oh, to be Mark Tuan’s favorite. What a girl wouldn’t give to be that.

“Maybe your favorite flavor for the week.” I turned around in his arms, looking down at his lips with a small smile. “Who else have you used that line on?”

Call me a cynic, a pessimist even, but I wouldn’t be the first girl Mark’s had and I wouldn’t be the last. And that was fine with me, I’m a big girl. I don’t need to be coddled and praised, I was just looking to be pleased.

And Mark definitely knew how to please. But between the two of us, I doubt he wanted anything more than what I was willing to give. Not anymore.

I sat up, wriggling out of his grip none too subtly, and went to put some clothes on, hop in the shower, and get the hell out of here.

It was hard to pretend I didn’t notice him watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, my body. I still remember how I used to relish, practically squirm with excitement, under his gaze. If you pegged him for the silent, brooding type, you’re partly right.

Mark was silent, but where he lacked in words, he made sure to make his presence known through actions. Endlessly observant, he read people like books. But that didn’t make him broody.

Anyone who knew him could tell you he wasn’t capable of a bad thought. Maybe he was a little wicked in bed, indulgent and even a little greedy, but you wouldn’t hear anyone complain about that. Not even after he was done with them, Mark wasn’t one to be cruel. He would offer to call a cab, make sure they had everything they needed.

At least, that’s what I’d heard. I hadn’t seen Mark since we broke up a year ago.

It was a mutual breakup, don’t worry. We decided we were too young to be tied down, the summer was ending, everything was going to be new. Or something along those lines, I honestly don’t remember.

“I haven’t.”

I paused at the sound of his voice before tugging my shirt down and turned to look at him over my shoulder. “Hm?”

“I haven’t used that line. On another girl,” he added softly, his hand at the back of his neck.

Did I say we? I meant him. Mutual—

Well, it was eventually mutual.

I tried not to be too torn over it and in telling myself we were both better off if I wasn’t bitter, it turned out pretty well.

For him.

No, that’s a little harsh. I wasn’t devastated, honestly. Maybe a little at first.

I’ll admit, I didn’t care to hear about his conquests or sloppy one night stands from Jackson or BamBam. I didn’t take it well that he wanted more “worldly” experiences with other girls. 

But time heals most wounds. Or you learn to stop calling them wounds and let them heal by themselves. Mark and I stayed friends. Somewhere between him thriving without me, I learned to live without his touch, his kiss, and his fuck. We learned to actually care about each other. Somehow that became a lot more important to me than who he was with every week.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have needs. I can own up to it, I was still weak for him. Now stop looking at me like that.

“Come here.” A question disguised as a command. JB must be rubbing off on him again.

But I crawled back into bed, sitting on my knees and looking down at him expectantly.

How does someone look so handsome just lounging on his side?

He looked like something out of a movie. The sun was setting behind him, casting a brilliant orange across his hair and skin, the blanket lazily thrown over his stomach. The lean muscle of his arms practically rippled as he shifted closer, reaching for me with one arm while the other cradled his head.

I narrowly escaped it, taking his hand to press gently to the bed. “You’re so serious, it’s creeping me out.”

A grin broke out on his face, those pearly whites gleaming as he lit up the room.

“What? Me, serious? Never,” he scoffed sitting up before a devious smirk replaced his grin. “Should I remind you?”

“No.” I knew that look. Oh, I know that look all too well. “No, don’t you dare or I’ll—”

“Scream?” He bit his lip, inching closer. His hands way too close. “I don’t mind.”

I lowered my foot on the edge of the bed, I had to at least _try_ to make a run for it, but before I touched the ground, Mark had his hands on either side of me grabbing the headboard. Trapping me, so close I could almost taste the heat of his skin as he hovered over me.

“Mark Tuan.” My voice is small, cracking from my nerves instead of firm. “Don’t. I swear if you try to even—”

I’m all fake confidence and barely concealed fear when his hands find my sides and he’s squeezing and digging into my flesh, crooking his fingers and furiously tickling up my rib cage and down my hips.

“Mark!” I’m shrieking now, trying to breathe between uncontrolled laughter as I try to squirm away, falling to the side, but he’s relentless.

My legs kick from the sensations at my middle, rolling and trying to get away as he laughs because I’m laughing. Asshole.

My hands shoot out to his stomach as a last attempt to push him away, but he screams out loud, elbows immediately bracing against where I’d touched him as he rolls onto his back.

And that’s when I know I have him. Not even trying to hide a slowly forming grin of my own, I scramble to crawl on top of him. Trapped between my knees, he shakes his head frantically, tries to cover his naked torso, but I know I’ve got him.

“What did you say about screaming?” I taunted. I held up my hands, slowly lowering them to his side. “If you don’t mind—”

His laugh is so high pitched, howling and wild. Something between a hyena and two cats fighting. His hips are moving wildly as he tries to push me off but too controlled for fear of hurting me.

“—I don’t mind.”

“No!” he wails between peals of giggles, “No, please!” He even starts hiccuping, he’s laughing so much. “Please - hic! - no, Y/N, please! I-I’m - hic! - I’m—”

God, I love his laugh.

“What was that, Mark? You never want me to stop?”

“No! No, please!”

His hips thrust upwards, harder this time, and I fall over him, hands momentarily - just for the briefest moments - brace themselves on the soft surface of the bed so I don’t crash on top of him.

But a moment is all he needs.

In a moment, Mark sits up easily, taking my weight up with him, and pins me to the bed.

“Well, this is awfully familiar.”

He manages a breath of laughter between his gasps for air, shaking his head. His hair falls over his face as he looks down at me, gently holding my wrists. His neck moves up and down slowly as he’s catching his breath, and I resist the urge to lean up and kiss the curve where it met his shoulder. Breathless, Mark was still breathtaking.

I watch him watch me, his lips parted as his breathing comes to a steady slow. It’s all I can do not to kiss him. I so badly want to touch him, my thumb twitches.

I clear my throat. “I have to shower.”

He doesn’t answer, still watching me watch him. I know that look. I know it so well, I actually think I’m dizzy from it. That and the aftermath of the adrenaline burst from our tickle fight.

“I haven’t.”

I frowned at this. “Showered? Yeah, I know, me neith—”

“I haven’t done this with another girl either.” He silences me with a single sentence. All too soon, he goes from cool and confusing to hot and tense as his hands release my wrists and he sits up.

I decide the shower can wait.

Biting his lip, Mark doesn’t look at me. He stares down at his hands, his fingers before they curl into fists. “I know what this looks like. But you’re not one of those girls who just fell into bed with me. You’re not, okay? And I know it’s messed up.” He raises his head and purses his lips. “I know I was the one who wanted this. But I meant what I said.”

I could hear my own heart race. I could hear my brain screaming to get out, save myself, abort mission. I think my stomach was falling into my ass.

No way. This was not happening.

“Mark—”

“I did miss you, Y/N.” The side of his mouth curves up, not trying to smile. He knows that I know he wouldn’t mean it. It didn’t even try to reach his eyes. “Whether you’re my friend or not. I think I missed you even when you were mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requestor said okay to part 2, so I did it and now it's back on the internet (arguably, it never left).

What do I say to something like that? Even if I knew what he meant, all it could mean was that our relationship was mediocre at best. And that’s just what everyone loves to hear, isn’t it?

“You missed me?” I echo.

I hate the way Mark looks at me. Like he’s trying to get me to see reason, trying to find me and just show me what he means because he can’t put it in words.

Pursing my lips, I look away, running a frustrated hand through my hair because the last thing I wanted to talk about was us. Or us before he decided he wanted to experience everyone else but us.

“Y/N—”

It all happens so fast, I don’t think I can hear anything. I just need to get away. I needed to get the hell out of here and I blame my own stupidity for sticking around. My feet tap numbly against the floor as I frantically, quietly, tug my pants on and try to make sure I have everything.

I don’t dare leave anything of mine here. I don’t want any reason to ever come back here.

“Y/N,” Mark calls for me as he gets up, but I ignore him. “Y/N, please, just listen.”

He tries to take my hand, but I pull away with my jacket in one hand and my bag in the other. His hands find my shoulders and I wordlessly try shrugging him off.

Without a warning, there’s such an emptiness in me as I hang my head, shaking it when he tries begging me to listen, to just fucking listen.

“Don’t.” I drop my stuff on the floor, my shoulders hanging as he stops trying to hold me still and I stop struggling to get away. I can’t look at him. I know if I do, I’ll want to hear what he has to say.

I’m afraid.

I’m so fucking afraid because Mark can still do this to me. After being together, then having to not be together, and now at that unspoken place in between where I have to lie. Just lie and pretend like it doesn’t bother me that no matter what he says, I have become one of those girls who fell into bed with Mark Tuan. Except I used to be the girl who got to stay.

“Please don’t do this now.” His thumbs press into my shoulders gently, trying to soothe me, trying to comfort me knowing I don’t want it. I can’t.

I could hear his careful breaths, knew he was thinking about how to talk to me. How to tell me what he wanted because all along, we both knew I’d always given him anything he wanted.

“I can’t keep pretending.” His voice is a faraway whisper even when he’s so close to me.

I shut my eyes, head lowered as I bite out with as much contempt I can hold in, “You think you have it hard pretending?”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to—”

“But you are, Mark.” I raise my head now. I want to look at him now. I want him to see me, the girl he turned his back on, the one he can’t ever push away and pull in whenever he pleased. I want him to remember who I’ve become. “You always are. Yeah, I get it. You missed me even when we were together, but that’s because you didn’t really want all of me.”

His face falls, with guilt, but I can tell he agrees with me. He just can’t voice it.

So I laugh, the kind of laughter that neither of us could mean.

“And you know I would have done anything for you.”

I hate him. I hate everything about him. Because without finishing a single sentence, Mark can still hold me like this.

“So what?” I ask sarcastically. “I gave you everything. I gave you all of me. I came and went when you wanted. I _came_ when you wanted. You told me to go left, I didn’t dare go right. And why the fuck would I do that?”

His fingers twitch around me, but he doesn’t let go. His eyes fall to the space between our feet.

“So you could just have me even now? When I was never really yours to begin with?”

And it cut me to say it, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t contain all the things I never told him. All the things I held back for his sake.

“I would have done anything for you, Mark. When you didn’t want us anymore,” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. Squashing down that tightly wound rubber band ball that was making it hard for me to speak. “When you didn’t want me anymore, did you think I’d still be that girl? Do you really think you can still have me whenever you want?”

Because he didn’t. That’s not the way it works. When I was still pining for him, the pathetic girl I was when we met, maybe if I was still that girl he could have me like this. And I would have wanted him to miss me. I remember when I wished for him to miss me.

“I didn’t deserve you.”

He squeezes me, and I can’t tell if he’s silently seething or trying to find words to say, but he lets go. In the same minute his hands fall, he slams a fist against the door and I flinch, my back standing rigid from the fear.

His jaw set tight, his head lowers to mine, holding me with his dark eyes, and for the first time, I see how resentful he is. Of me or himself, I don’t know.

"You think I don’t know that? But it’s easy for you to blame me, isn’t it? Did we even know each other when we were together?”

If Mark was capable of it, I’d call him cruel. Because, yes, of course it’s easy to blame him for why we didn’t work. Of course I could write it off with bitterness and contempt that he was just selfish, that it wasn’t me who wasn’t enough for him, but that enough just wasn’t ever enough for him.

And it’s wrong. Because as much as I would have gone to the ends of the earth for him, we didn’t love each other. We loved the idea of each other. And we liked to think that it was all we needed because the sex was good and maybe when things weren’t so bad, that was as good as it got.

When Mark and I broke up, I spent a lot of time making sure I became the girl who’d never go back to him. With a lot of lying, pretending like I didn’t care who he fucked or didn’t fuck, who he actually was became so much more important.

Mark, the boy who was the oldest of his friends, but played like the youngest. Who just wanted to have a good time, too afraid to find his place in the world because it just moved so fast and he was never sure when he’d ever catch up.

Mark who couldn’t stop saying sorry after bad jokes. And craved attention, but would rather sit by himself than tell anyone so. Who couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being unhappy because of him.

It was Mark who had extended the olive tree branch when we saw each other again. At the time, I told myself this would be good for me. I could prove that I wasn’t the same girl from his memory.

But it was just an excuse to see him, that maybe if we became friends, he could never hold me to him like this again. I wouldn’t be weak for him anymore. And we could just be happy like this, even when some part of me - a shamefully large part - still craved his kiss and welcomed his touch.

It never seemed possible to me that I could have had a hold on him too.

He rubs his face tiredly, shaking his head. “I thought we could be friends. I never thought I could be doing this now, but I did want you. I do still want you. I thought I could just forget you and honestly?” He scoffs. “I almost did. But when we were friends, it just didn’t feel right.”

“But we are so much better that way,” I say in spite of myself. In spite of still wanting Mark too, he had to know that. “All we did was lie to each other. Pretend like we cared when we didn’t care enough. Mark, isn’t this be—”

“No.”

My heart sank.

“No.” He reaches for me carefully and this time, I let him. His fingers curl around my jaw, thumb stroking my hot cheek. And I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that. Like I was so far away when he had me like this. “All it does is make me wish I’d been better. I didn’t know the girl I was hurting all that time.”

“And now?” I begged to ask.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen, I can’t promise you that if you give us another chance, we won’t have problems or-or get so mad at each other, we don’t talk for days. Or that I can erase everything bad that’s happened between us. That’s not real.”

Mark’s hands are so gentle as he cups my face. His forehead warm as it falls onto mine. His eyes fall shut. And he is so beautiful.

“All I know is that I know you now. I know I want you. Please don’t make me miss you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not my best work, me from 3 years ago owes some of the Mark stans money or some reparations, what was I thinking. follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/feraljackson) or [tumblr](https://yves-saintlaurwang.tumblr.com/) if you want, it's free!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at least 3 years ago and now I’m reposting it for what reason? I don’t know, I’m sorry if it’s trash, but I was feeling it and I regret nothing. follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/feraljackson) or [tumblr](https://yves-saintlaurwang.tumblr.com/) if you want, it's free!


End file.
